The Shadow of the Nile

Chapter 1

The air felt dense and silent around him as if it was suffocating him, robbing his ability to breathe. However, beneath the heavy silence, he could hear faint whispers and murmurs, like it was trying to cling desperately to the city. The once vibrant Alexandria now lies under the cold gaze of its Roman conquerors. 

Khemra, a young man in his late twenties, walked through the narrow streets of his city, the soles of his sandals lightly clicking against the familiar ground. Alexandria smelt like always; salt with the hint of the sun-kissed stones. His brown almond-shaped eyes swept over the remnants of his culture, which were now replaced by Roman architecture and symbols. 

Statues of Roman emperors, including the latest — Hadrian — stood proudly in various places as if they were glaring down at the people, as if they would impose harsh punishments on those who commit anything. These weren't merely statutes, but they were evidence that everything was changing. But Khemra's steps didn't falter as he passed through their gazes, though he felt the weight of oppression lying on his shoulders. 

The streets were quieter than usual. Only the shouts of “Fresh dates!” Or “Pomegranate is sweet as honey!” were heard through them. The city's spirit was broken; its laughter and joy were turned into silence by the weight of the occupation. The Egyptians moved with their heads down as if there was something putting pressure on them. Their eyes avoided the Roman guards, who were standing at every corner of the city, not wanting to draw any attention to them. 

However, Khemra walked with confidence in his steps, his face open and smiling, not minding the Romans around him. His demeanour was light, almost casual, the way someone would stroll in a free city. — not a city with so much surveillance. This act was a normal one for him; an act that he had been practising for years. He walked as if the city was his — and it's his. Nobody could take it away from him — as if Rome was a temporary annoyance, not the empire that stole his country. 

He stopped at a small fruit stall to greet an elderly merchant called Khufu. The latter's face was lined with wrinkles and his hands shook as he arranged the figs to sell them. Khemra had known the man since he was a child. He used to tell him stories of the great city of Alexandria before it began falling under the Roman occupation. 

“Good day, Master Khufu.” He greeted him as soon as he stopped at the stall, but his gaze was focused on the temple that was being built in the distance. “I think the Romans are gifting us with another one of their wonderful architecture. How thoughtful of them, as if we needed more evidence of what is happening to the country.” 

His brown eyes watched the construction with a sorrowful look. Nevertheless, He let out a light chuckle, shaking his head as he turned back to Khufu. 

“Ah, yes. Another gift,” The elderly’s voice was rough and raspy from shouting to sell his fruits. “They think we should be grateful for these changes.” 

“Grateful, you say,” Khemra murmured, then his voice became louder. “Master Khufu, it must be hard watching our country change into this as if the Greeks were not enough.” 

Khufu let out a tired sigh. His hands were still shaking as he arranged the figs - as if, like this, he could arrange Egypt and return it to its glory. “They came with their traditions and laws. It's as though they think they are better than us. Do you know that Egypt used to be a place where all scholars come from all over the world to learn?” he said in a quiet voice. 

Khemra leaned slightly against the stall, his eyes watching the movement of the Roman guards patrolling the place. He could see the courthouse looming over the place, silent and fearful of uttering a sound, much like the people themselves.